She peeled back from him, a flush warming her face. She relished his attention, but at their age and status such displays seemed out of place. "As peaceful as any six days have ever been. You brought all the excitement with you."
"Did you beat a man to death for sleeping on the walls?" Hakon pushed forward, tugging the hem of his father's cloak. Ulfrik laughed and picked his son off the floor with one arm.
"Rumors travel like flies in this town. I found lazy guards at the west gate, and Einar punished a man for his laziness. But no one died."
Ulfrik deposited Hakon to his feet. Though barely eight years old, he stood taller than other boys his age, and well over Ulfrik's waist. He was the very image of his father, from his pale eyes and blond hair to his wiry strength and purposeful stride. Runa did not doubt he favored the boy for his similarity to himself, though Hakon's bright personality made him likable to anyone. He fixed Hakon's shirt, twisted and untucked from his belt. "Now what you have been up to? You've listened to your mother and Snorri? Been a good lad?"
Hakon nodded earnestly. Snorri coughed. "Good in what way? The young master here has been under everyone's feet these days."
Gunnar presented himself next. Runa watched the curious exchange. Gunnar considered himself a man, as did Runa, but Ulfrik struggled to accept it. This had strained their interactions, though in no serious manner. The two regarded each other, Gunnar standing back while Ulfrik awaited an embrace. When it did not come, he raised a brow.
"Have I ruined your day returning so soon?" Gunnar answered with a chuckle and then embraced his father. Ulfrik gave Runa a perplexed smile as he hugged his son.
"Gunnar has a girlfriend. I saw them holding hands." Hakon proclaimed his news with waving hands, as if words alone would not get attention. Gunnar hissed at his brother, while Ulfrik laughed. Runa had heard the rumors, and saw the lovesickness in her son's actions, but never openly dealt with it. The days of freedom in romance would soon end with an arranged marriage to strengthen ties with Hrolf. So she did not begrudge him his time.
"A girl, is it?" Ulfrik slapped Gunnar's back. "Keep it to holding hands. I've no plan for bastard grandchildren."
"Ulfrik!" Runa snapped. "Don't embarrass him in the hall. Now, you've not greeted your youngest."
She guided Aren before her, resting her hands on his small shoulders. Ulfrik mimicked Aren's shy pout, then smiled. He knelt to his eye level, and with one hand that seemed gigantic beside Aren's small frame tugged him a few steps closer.
"And how is my young warrior?" he asked, his voice lowering. "Have you been good?"
Aren shrugged as if to discount his own statement. "Yes, Father."
He stood out from his brothers in appearance and temperament. Aren's hair was straight and coppery, so thin it seemed painted to his head. His face was wide and square. None of those features were common to either of his parents, but much like a man Runa once knew too well. Aren was Konal's child, a man she had rescued and ultimately slept with six years ago. The timing of Aren's birth left his parentage open to interpretation, but as he grew, no one who knew Runa's history could doubt Aren's true father. Ulfrik never questioned her. The one time she tried to raise the possibility with him, he had placed his hand over her mouth and shushed her. He told her that blood did not always make a son or a father, and that he'd welcome as many sons as she could give him. She had never thought her love could deepen for Ulfrik until that day.
Now the two stared gravely at each other. Finally Ulfrik patted Aren's head and stood, "Good boy. Mind your mother."
With welcomes complete, and Einar quietly finishing with his own wife and two daughters who had waited for him at the far end of the high table, Runa now dared return to matters at hand. "What did Hrolf want? I've heard that famine is driving men from the land. Was that it?"
"Of course it was. How have you heard?"
Runa rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Unlike you, I listen to what tidings men bring to the hall. They are not all lies and tricks of the Franks. Besides, we've felt the pinch ourselves this summer."
"We have?" Ulfrik unpinned his cloak and threw it across the table, then sat which then signaled the others to relax and return to their duties. "I've eaten well all summer."
"You are the jarl, and would be the last person to starve." Ulfrik straightened to protest, but she held out a hand as she sat on the bench beside him. "But I don't mean that we've suffered, just that we've not replenished as fast as years past. So back to Hrolf. Is he ordering men to stay put?"
"He had us renew our oaths to serve him and needed me to persuade others to do the same. But before I left, he mentioned he might take a tour of England himself. Just to see if there are opportunities there." Ulfrik brushed imaginary dirt from his knee, as if the news were as unimportant as dust.
"So he binds you to fight for his lands while he leaves." Runa twisted on the bench to face him directly. "That is cruel."
"He is free to do as he pleases. Besides, he has not decided on making the journey. In any case, he knows how important I am to holding his lands, and he needed to be sure of it. There was gold in it as well as glory. Got an armband for my success against Clovis."
Ulfrik cleared his throat and held his arm up. His face was as bright as a young boy's and eager for her praise. She often felt he acted like her fourth son rather than her husband. "It gleams brighter than all the others," she said with a wry smile. "Though I'm not sure it was worth the risk you took to earn it."
"There is no life without glory, and there is no glory without risk."
"Foolish words," she scolded playfully and he laughed. Yet in her heart, she meant them. Ulfrik courted glory, more than ever before. Back in Nye Grenner, he was prideful, if naive. Since coming to Frankia and serving Hrolf, he had grown into an appetite for glory and station. Victory alone was no longer enough, but had to be achieved in a way that earned the envy of men. His battle plans, to Runa's limited understanding, had become more convoluted and dangerous, all in the name of "being worthy of a song."
"Yet you don't count gold a foolish reward," he said to her, drawing her back from her thoughts. She decided not to foul his good mood with worries. The battle had long finished, and Ulfrik had assured her Clovis had been dealt a hard blow from which he could not recover before winter.
"True, now get yourself ready for the evening meal, and my own reward for you later tonight."
Chapter 6
"He claims to have served you, Lord Ulfrik. He leads seven men in full war gear, who are waiting outside the southern gate. He gave his name as Konal Ketilsson, and said you'd let him inside."
Everyone at the high table spoke at once, and the messenger below them stepped back in surprise. Ulfrik snapped his head to Runa, who sat straighter at the name and pursed her lips. Her eyes narrowed and her head shook with studied caution.
"Konal has returned?" Gunnar stood, his face bright with excitement. "This is great news. Father, of course you'll let him in."
The messenger turned an expectant eye on Ulfrik, as did all the others within the darkening hall. Twilight had arrived and the moon would soon rule the night. Already men were gathering their families in fire-lit halls, drawn to savory cooking pots simmering with an evening meal. The arrival of visitors at such a late hour was uncommon, and many faces showed open worry.
Ulfrik's gaze skimmed past Gunnar, meeting Runa again. She had not shifted from her expressive silence. In the knit of her brows and the throbbing vein showing in the gentle curve of her neck, he witnessed all her fear. Konal had owed Runa a life debt, which he counted as repaid, but Ulfrik also secreted a fortune in gems that had once belonged to Konal. He had stayed on in Frankia with his twin brother Kell, hoping to find their lost gems. They believed Anscharic possessed them, but as Bishop of Paris he was as unattainable as an evening star. Konal and his brother eventually departed for Ireland, and Anscharic died four years ago. No one had expected to see Konal or Kell again.